


Death Sentence

by Love_andbalance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Because It Was Requested, Death, Depictions of anxiety, Everyone is sus, F/M, Female Friendships, Grief and Trauma, Illegal Activities, Kylo Ren is kind of a flirt, Modern AU, Murder, Mystery, No Pregnancy, No harm will come to the cat, Reylo - Freeform, Safe to Read if Triggered by Pregnancy, Sex, Sexual Tension, Suspense, THERE WILL BE A CAT, Thriller, Violence, What's a girl to do with a man like that, annoying neighbor, but he might be a criminal, but he's hot, someone gets murdered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_andbalance/pseuds/Love_andbalance
Summary: New neighbor Kylo Ren is Rey Johnson's worst nightmare- loud, rude, and quite possibly dangerous. His charming good looks and roguish smile get under her skin like nothing else she's ever experienced.She despises everything about him until she doesn't, but when someone close to her ends up dead and it seems like Rey might be the killer's next target, can she can count on him to keep her safe? Or will putting her trust in the wrong man be a death sentence?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 95
Kudos: 126





	1. Livid

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a mystery/thriller type story. I'm learning as I go with this so please be patient. You will notice that it is only very lightly tagged and that is intentional because it's a mystery and I don't want to give away much about what happens in the story and tags can be spoilery. If you have a specific trigger or squick, I can be found @Love_andbalance on Twitter and you can DM me to find out if the story is safe for you to read. I won't divulge things in the comments because it might ruin the story for others who prefer to be surprised.
> 
> The beautiful edit of tattooed Kylo was made by @Mirrastupar1 on Twitter. That is the image that helped inspire Kylo's look and attitude in this fic ❤

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> livid [liv-id]  
> adjective  
> \- Enraged; furiously angry  
> \- Feeling or appearing strangulated because of strong emotion

Rey’s new neighbor hadn’t been in the house next door for a full day when she decided that the man was probably going to be the death of her.

In less than twenty-four hours, he had already disrupted everything about the carefully cultivated order and tranquility that she had built her life upon. Worse still was that he was crass, rude, and unremorseful for having done so.

They had made a scene. In front of the whole neighborhood. While she was wearing her pajamas.

The indecency such a confrontation, of being reduced to behavior that might be viewable as _rude_ or even _condescending_ might have been embarrassing, if she hadn’t been so livid about the whole thing and the fact that it was unquestionably _entirely his fault_.

Had he showed any semblance of maturity or responsibility it would never have happened in the first place. None of her other neighbors would have behaved so boorishly- they were all older adults or young couples with children.

They knew how to behave.

They had manners.

That’s _why she lived here_.

Having grown up in the relentless chaos that was the foster care system, Rey had sought to envelope herself as much as possible in stability as an adult. It was more than just a whim, more than just a preference. It was something she needed. Chaos in her perfectly orchestrated life was just something that could not be tolerated at all.

She was careful, studious, dependable and she liked for her environment to reflect those things as well. It soothed her, made her feel like her life was finally her own to control.

Which was why, once she had fled foster care and moved from the tiny isolated town of Jakku to the relative comfort of Takodona, she had rented the quaint two-story Craftsmen tucked into the cul-de-sac at the end of Cherry Blossom Lane.

All of the homes here were older, but all of them were well kept. The sidewalks were swept, there was no litter in the streets, and every house had flowers in the front yard.

Like all of her other neighbors, Rey worked hard to make her home look nice. She kept the lawn neatly cut and the hedges trimmed. The front yard beds were planted with flowers that she fertilized at precise intervals to give her the biggest and brightest blooms on the block. Her perfectly sensible blue sedan was parked unobtrusively in the driveway whenever she was home and did nothing to distract the eye from the staid and stately atmosphere that everyone in the neighborhood strove to obtain.

Rey had never had problems with her neighbors before this man had moved in.

In fact, she had gotten along fabulously well with the neighbor who had previously lived in that particular house. Mr. Kenobi was an elderly gentleman that had appreciated her flowers and her iced tea. She had been genuinely upset to learn that he would be leaving to live with his son and that the house would be rented out to someone else.

Apart from missing his company, which she would, she was concerned about the idea of living next door to another renter. In her experience most of them were not as interested in maintaining a house to her exacting standards and the idea of living next door to a house with peeling paint and a yard filled with weeds was enough to make her shudder.

She’d seen the moving truck, a real moving company not a pack and move yourself type thing, on her way out the door to work that morning. She had peaked around curiously but men carrying boxes into the house all wore identical green t-shirts that identified them as employees of the moving company. There was no sign of whoever was moving in. 

A quick glance at the inside of the truck hadn’t shown her anything of interest, but it hadn’t shown her anything at all, really, since it seemed most of what they were moving consisted of sealed cardboard boxes of various sizes and shapes. The movers must have taken the furniture inside before she realized they were there, and the rest looked to have even been packed professionally.

In her experience, delinquents didn’t usually hire professionals to pack and move their belongings.

That gave her some hope as she settled behind the wheel of her car. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her black pencil skirt, checked that none of the hair that she had pulled up into a loose chignon had slipped free of its pins, and looked in her mirrors twice before backing out of the out of the driveway and into the street.

Which is why, when she arrived home at her customary time of five forty-five in the evening and found the moving truck gone and replaced by a black motorcycle and a cherry red sports car, she was unpleasantly surprised.

The glaringly disruptive color of the car, and what she assumed would be an equally obnoxious amount of disruptive noise from the motorcycle, would have been bad enough, but the owner of the two vehicles had decided to park the bike in the driveway and the car on the front lawn.

More precisely, it was on the grass of the _shared_ front lawn between her driveway on the left and his driveway on the right. His front tires were clearly _on her side_. It would leave ruts in the soil, flatten the grass, leave a large and unsightly dead spot in the center of her lawn if he did it with any regularity.

Surely, he could not imagine that it would be acceptable to ruin the curb appeal of her home by parking that monstrosity of a vehicle on the lawn?

She would have to say something about it when she saw him, she decided, glaring daggers at the car as she unlocked her front door. She dropped her keys into the bowl by the door, kicked her shoes off, and hit the button on the remote that filled the downstairs with the soft sound of classical music. It was Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 14 in C sharp minor, his famous Moonlight Sonata, and one of her favorites. It soothed her frazzled nerves.

It was easy to put the neighbor and his care aside, to settle into her usual routine of heating up a cup of fragrant tea while she prepared the vegetables for dinner on the cutting board that protected her pristine kitchen counter. She sliced zucchini, artichoke hearts, and small heirloom tomatoes that she grown herself in the small garden in the back yard, layered it in the casserole dish over chicken breast, added the seasonings and the cheese, the crumbled bacon that was left over from breakfast, and slid it into the oven.

There would be enough there for dinner and for leftovers. It wasn’t easy to cook for one, but she managed.

It would take a while to bake and, in the meantime, she could settle down in her favorite chair and read the last few chapters of the novel she had picked up on a recommendation from Rose. Enemies to lovers wasn’t really her thing, but her best friend swore that the villain in this one redeemed himself enough to make the ending satisfying. There were only three chapters left, and Rey was still skeptical, but Rose had been so excited about it that she was determined to finish it anyway.

She hadn’t made it through the first page when the noise started.

It began with the rumble of motorcycle engines, the slamming of car doors, men shouting and laughing at decibels that seemed likely to rattle the windows. She resisted the urge to get up, to peak through the curtains like a stereotypically nosy neighbor. She already knew who was responsible, certainly no one else on this street would have guests that behaved like this (on a weeknight of all things), and she wouldn’t stoop to his level by becoming a rude neighbor herself.

The music started soon after, drowning out the familiar melody created by talented fingers on the keys of a piano and subjecting her unwillingly to the erratic beat of a drum and what she thought might possibly be an electric guitar. Whatever speakers they were pumping it from had to be nearing its capacity for noisemaking disruption, because this time the windows at the side of her house _were_ rattling their frames. The leader singer, if indeed screaming profanities into the microphone could qualify him as a singer, was obviously oblivious to things like pitch and tone, rhythm and tempo.

She wrapped her fingers around her teacup so tightly the skin on her knuckles turned white, but she didn’t make a scene.

It wasn’t until well passed ten, when she had already changed into her favorite set of blue and white plaid pajamas, that she reached her limit.

She heard it first- the rev of a motorcycle engine that was much too loud and went on much too long to be necessary, then the squeal of tires and the hideous scrape of metal on concrete.

By the time she made it to the window, the bike had been set upright again and the fool riding it was standing on the sidewalk looking sadly at the scratched paint and busted lights. In the dim glow of the streetlight she could see that he had lost control pulling too quickly out of the driveway and slid straight into her hydrangeas.

That was quite enough for one day.

There were several men gathered around the bike and its rider when she stalked barefooted across her front yard. Tattooed, pierced, and dressed to the last man in unrelenting black, there was a dangerous look to them that she consciously ignored, the adrenaline in her system overriding her well-honed self-preservation instinct.

They all turned their heads to look at her, like a series of marionettes being controlled by the same puppet master and said nothing as she stared down at stripped blooms and broken stalks where the bike had crashed into her flowers. The plants were mangled and quite possibly beyond saving.

She sighed heavily and looked around until she spotted what she thought was the guilty party. “Are you responsible for this?”

The one that had done the damage was still wide eyed and pale- what little color had remained in his face drained away when he saw the look on hers. He swallowed hard, the act visible even in the dark and across the distance that separated them. “I did. I apologize. It was an accident.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mitaka. You act like a kid sent to the principal’s office. What do you think she’s gonna do to you? Give you detention? She’s in her pajamas for fucks’ sake.”

She whirled on the man that spoke, cheeks flaming as the rest of them laughed. He was pale, red headed, and had the coldest blue eyes that she had ever seen. A shiver of fear worked its way down her spine, and she crossed her arms over her stomach as she glared at him.

“You have damaged my property. You’ll all be lucky if I don’t call the police.” She glanced around, noting with a sick feeling in her stomach that there was a face in at least one window of every house in the vicinity. They were making a spectacle out of this, and she did not appreciate it. “You’re my new neighbor, I presume?”

He smirked at her nastily. “Nah, you got lucky. You won’t be dealing with me. Kylo’s still in the house.” He jerked his chin toward the front door and Rey narrowed her eyes in that direction.

“Kylo apparently needs a lesson in manners and disturbing the peace ordinances,” she snapped, turning on her heel and marching back across the lawn, this time toward her neighbor’s porch instead of her own. “And get that motorcycle away from my flowers.”

They followed a short distance behind her, clearly intent on watching as she confronted the man she blamed for all of this.

She pounded with the side of her fist, forgoing the usual polite knocking altogether because she knew it wouldn’t be heard over the unholy racket still blaring from the speakers.

Her focus on summoning her new nemesis was so intense, and the music so loud, that she didn’t notice the doorknob when it started to turn. He pulled the door open just as she swung arm forward to pound again and she found herself flying through the open air where the door had been and straight into the arms of a stranger.

It was like running into a wall, albeit one that was slightly softer and warmer than any she had encountered before. She felt hands come up to grasp her elbows, lifting her and steadying her back onto her feet.

The men in the yard were all gathered at the bottom of the porch steps now, laughing at her again. She shot them a glare over her shoulder as she righted herself, stepping back and slapping peevishly at the hands that had caught her.

She had no patience left to be manhandled.

“ _Excuse_ me,” she began loudly, infusing her voice with enough hostility to make certain anyone listening knew that she was not requesting to be excused at all, but whatever else she had been about to say was quickly forgotten.

She turned away from the miscreants in the yard and back to the man in the doorway. The barrier she had run into was his chest, which seemed to stretch impossibly from one side of the door frame to the other and to do so at about the same height level as her face. In order to see the rest of him, and there was rather a lot more of him to see, she had to retreat an extra step and tip her chin back so far that throat felt bare and exposed.

“Hng,” she said, swallowing hard against the sudden to run back to her own house and slam the door closed behind her.

This man was nothing like his friends. He was neither small and timid, nor haughty and cruel, though she wasn’t sure entirely what words she would use to describe him, besides enormous.

Looking down at her, his head nearly brushing the top of the door frame, was the most compelling looking man that she had ever laid eyes on. He too was pale, but his features held none of the cruelty of his companion. He had a long nose and large ears that just barely peaked through the smooth black waves of his collar length hair. In the shadows of the porch his eyes looked black to match, but even in this dim light she could see the plush outline of his mouth and how indescribably pink it was.

He was amused, if the lazy curl of his lip was any kind of accurate indication, and entirely too smug for a man who had inconvenienced half the neighborhood with his antics.

He leaned casually against the door frame, raising one arm above his head to curl his fingers around the top of the trim. The movement pulled the black t-shirt he was wearing tight across his chest, and with his arm this close she could see the tattoos that snaked from his wrist to somewhere beneath his sleeve. It was impossible to tell what they were, but they bled across his skin in a fascinating pattern of blacks and blues and reds.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” His voice was deep, honey over butter smooth, and arrogant.

She scowled.

“You can begin by not calling me ‘ _sweetheart_ ’. I’m Rey Johnson, your new neighbor. I live right there.” She turned to point to her own house, and he leaned out the door to look, invading her personal space and letting his breath brush her ear as he did so. He was crowding her, but she refused to step back again. She turned to face him with her lips pressed in a discouraging line.

“Alright, well, it’s nice to meet you…”

She ignored him, speaking over the end of his sentence until he trailed away into silence. “You’ve parked your car on my lawn, played your music far too loudly, and allowed your friends to damage my personal property.”

Again, she pointed and, again, he leaned around her to look, this time at the sadly broken mess that was her hydrangeas.

He whistled. “The boys did that?”

“They did,” she confirmed. “I don’t know exactly what it is that you do for a living Mr…”

“I’m Kylo.”

“Fine. Kylo. I don’t know what it is that you do, but some of us, that is rather _all_ of us, in this neighborhood have jobs and families and need to be awake at respectable hours. Especially during the week. God heavens, it’s a Tuesday night.”

“So, you came over here in your pajamas to tell me to be quiet and not park on your lawn?” She flushed and glanced down at her cotton pajama pants, curling her bare toes into the painted wood of the porch while he continued. “Which is actually _my_ lawn, by the way.”

“Not that part of it,” she insisted stubbornly. “The dividing line between my portion of the yard and yours is quite clear. Please park your car in the driveway, like the rest of us.”

“I see,” he murmured, and she didn’t miss the look that he exchanged with the awful red-haired man that was still standing behind her. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Mrs. Johnson. You aren’t being very friendly, not doing a very good job of welcoming me to the neighborhood.” He leaned down toward her again, voice low and soothing.

She poked him in the chest with her finger, drilling in to his sternum firmly until he relented and straightened back to his full overwhelming height.

“I’m being perfectly friendly, all things considered. And it’s _Miss_ Johnson,” she corrected.

“Oh?” He smiled at her, sudden dimples flashing in his cheeks that made him far more boyish and charming than he had any right to be. The way his eyes traveled from the top of her head and down over her body to her bare feet left little room for his meaning to be misunderstood. Considering that she was wearing baggy pajamas that hung on her slender frame, her hair was pulled hastily and messily back into a low ponytail, and she had taken her makeup off hours ago, she had the distinct feeling that it was done more as a deliberate insult than an actual expression of interest.

“No,” she said firmly. “Absolutely not. I don’t make a habit of dating men like you. Please get your car off my lawn and turn your music down.” She turned to go, glaring at the men that shuffled off the porch steps to make room for her to pass. “ _You_ owe me a new hydrangea,” she said, pining the guilty one with a firm look.

The red head winked at her as she passed and she sniffed, lifting her chin to show him that she was unbothered.

“She’s a feisty one, Kylo. Think you can handle living next door to that little prude?”

They all laughed again, and she ignored them, determined not to acknowledge them or give them more ammunition for their rudeness.

“Hey, sweetheart!”

Unable to resist, she stopped with one foot on the bottom stair of her own front porch, turning to find the dark haired one- Kylo- leaning against his front porch railing, lit cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. “Dating wasn’t exactly what I had in mind!”

She slammed the door behind her.


	2. Conflicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conflicted [ kuhn-flik-tid ]  
> adjective  
> \- Having or showing confused and mutually inconsistent feelings  
> \- Unable to decide between opposing feelings or views

The sight of the mangled hydrangea out her window the following morning sent Rey into another spiral of rage. It looked even worse in the creeping light of the spreading dawn, petals and leaves scattered haphazardly in the street, stems snapped and broken at unnatural angles that made her want to weep in frustration for the senseless loss of it.

And maybe  _ that man _ -what had he said his name was? Kylo? - hadn’t personally caused its destruction, but he was behind it nonetheless, with his careless behavior and nonchalantly irresponsible attitude.

He had probably floated through life on his size and his intimidatingly large presence and his ridiculously good-looking smile. No one to tell him no or hold him accountable for his actions. No one to explain to him that he was recklessly endangering the peace and order that other, more sensible, individuals such as herself had worked so hard to achieve.

He was infuriating.

Her bad mood where he was concerned had only increased when she had slammed the door so hard the night before that it knocked one of her pictures off the wall. The frame had shattered, sending glass flying across the floor, and she had barely resisted the urge to scream her frustrations. Instead she had laid in bed awake most of the night, imaging his too handsome face and plotting her revenge.

She had never considered herself a vengeful person, but something about the man next door rubbed her in all the wrong ways.

After a restless night that resulted in her sleeping through her alarm for the first time in her adult life she had found herself rushing to get out the door on time, bitter about the lack of time for coffee and stewing over the memory of her flowers.

She had barely made it to the end of the driveway with a wrinkled skirt and wisps of hair slipping out of her hastily scooped up ponytail when she saw him. Standing on his porch holding a cup of coffee like he had not a care in the world, was Kylo.

She pressed down hard on the brakes, coming to a stop with a little  _ thump,  _ making her head bob. He was shirtless, revealing a broad chest that was startling in the sheer expanse of visible skin. His right arm was covered from wrist to shoulder in the tattoos she had noticed the night before, a multicolor tapestry that drew the eye on to a canvas of alabaster skin and onyx hair, rumpled from sleep and the distrusting glide of his fingers. Black pajama pants sat low in his hips as he leaned against the railing, drawing her gaze down from his arm and across the flat landscape of his stomach.

Her cheeks pinked horribly, and she scowled at him, tipping up her chin haughtily and watching him through narrowed eyes.

He was smirking at her like he knew that it was his fault that she was tired and angry and running late and he was enjoying that fact very much.

He lifted his coffee cup in a mock salute, and she set her teeth against the urge to respond to his taunt with a very uncharitable hand gesture. She pulled out of the driveway without giving him the satisfaction of flipping him off or rolling down her window to complain about how his car was still parked on her grass.

He was _ horrid _ and she _ hated _ him.

She arrived at Resistance Financial at exactly 8:55 am with not a single moment to spare if she was going to make it upstairs to her office on time. She had nearly been late -for the first time ever- and it was all his fault.

“Wow,” Kaydel remarked with a low whistle as she walked into the large lobby. “You look like shit.” The petite blonde smiled sweetly as she said it, but Rey felt unkept and out of sorts, especially beside her friends, all of whom had managed to show up to work looking tidy and presentable.

“Yes,” Rey sighed. “Thank you for pointing that out.”

Kaydel smiled. “Happy to help.”

Beside her, Bazine shrugged. “She’s right, I’ve never seen you with a hair out of place. It’s like you’re…almost human.” Rey slapped gently at the tall brunette’s perfectly manicured hand when she reached out to tug on a piece of escaped hair.

“Stop that,” she said, tucking her hair back into the elastic band and smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothes as well as she was able.

“No, no, they have a point,” Rose said with a grin, holding up a steaming cup of coffee and waving it in front of her face. Her smile was bright, and her eyes were full of faintly amused mischief. “What happened to you?”

Rey grabbed the coffee gratefully and took a quick sip, ignoring the burn on her tongue. No cream and very little sugar- Rose always remembered how she liked it.

“Thank you, you’re a goddess among women,” she said gratefully, taking another sip. “And my new neighbor is what happened to me. Parking his car on my lawn, revving up his loud ass motorcycle and letting his buddies do the same. They destroyed my hydrangea! And then he had the nerve to hit on me.”

Rose laughed as they all turned toward the elevator. “Hasn’t he only been there for one day?”

“Yes! Can you imagine how much worse it’s going to get?”

The elevator dinged open and they stepped inside. Luckily, nearly everyone else was already at their desks so it was empty except for the four of them.

They were all headed to different floors, all worked for different departments, but banking was still a boys’ club and they had been drawn to each other since the early days of their careers, each of them feeling out of place but determined not to be run off or run down by the attitudes of their male colleagues.

Rey sighed again. “So, everyone’s all set for a kicking ass kind of day except for me?”

Rose smiled, teeth a bit too prominent for the smile to be genuine. “Just another day working for the asshole who stole my promotion. Everyone knows he’s useless and has the moral backbone of a piece of limp spaghetti, but, hey, let’s give the job to him because he’s got a dick.”

They all nodded sympathetically. Rose had been pissed for six months about that promotion, but it was hard to blame her. She’d easily made it the youngest VP in the accounting department but then she’d stalled out at the next step, none of the higher up executives willing to place a woman as the head of the department.

“Let’s all just run away,” Bazine said wistfully, wrapping her arm around Rose’s waist to give her a quick hug. “To hell with them.”

“We could live on the beach somewhere tropical,” Kaydel agreed. “If we had the money for it.”

Rey snorted, “Where are we gonna get that kind of money? Tropical islands are notoriously pricy.”

“Take it from here,” Rose said with a grin. “Six months of skimming off the top would let you live on an island for the rest of your life. A year would let you buy an island and never have to worry about anything again.”

They all laughed as the elevator slowed to a stop on Rey’s floor and she stepped out. “You guys have fun with that, and don’t forget to reserve the jail cell next to you for me.”

Rose smiled and waved when the door closed and Rey made her way quickly and quietly to her small office, sipping coffee as she went. Every head turned as she passed, taking the opportunity to look at her ass while they thought she wouldn’t notice as they did every day and she ignored them.

It was still going to be a horrible day, but she always had her friends to make her feel a little less terrible. They were all just as driven as she was, and just as tired of bumping up against a system that took the best of what they had to offer while leaving them on the outside looking in.

She dropped her stuff down at her desk, meticulously straightening the supplies and tidying the little box that held her incoming paperwork before she sat down to go over that day’s tasks.

Her dedication to neatness and precision was a benefit that had kept her on the rising track in her own department. Not as quickly as Rose, but likely with the same end result. If she managed to catch the attention of the higher ups that she’d find her own career stalling out as well.

She’d chosen this company specifically because it had a woman at the helm, but it hadn’t taken long for her to realize that Leia Organa’s position was more a product of her family connections than anything else. The men had accepted her because she was Luke Skywalker’s sister and then pointed to her position as an example of how they clearly offered equal opportunities while simultaneously using it as a shield against allowing other women in the company to rise.

They had their woman in the top ranks, and they didn’t need another.

If it wasn’t for her deeply rooted moral code, which she suspected at this point might consist almost entirely of a fear of spending several unpleasant years in an orange prison jumpsuit, she might have given in to the wild urge to try and convince Rose to take that island money and run.

Of course, her friends would all think she was a bit unbalanced if she said that out loud and she supposed she might be. She’d never actually want to leave her quiet house and her neat office and her steady routine. Thoughts of abandoning it all jumped into her mind sometimes, but they were easily put back into place by clear, logical thinking.

She finished the last of her coffee, tossing the empty cup in the bin beside her desk, and started responding to her emails.

***

She was too tired to care about the car or the hydrangea by the time she made it home.

The other neighbors in the cul-de-sac shot her sympathetic looks as she drove by, especially the couple who lived directly across the street from her and had to look at the mess. Finn and Poe were a lovely couple and she was sure they did not appreciate the mess that now faced them when they walked out their own front door.

She waved as she stepped out of the car and they waved back but they were eyeing the house next door skeptically and she wondered what he had been up to while she was at work.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take her long to find out.

“Hey, uh, neighbor lady!”

She sighed, her shoulders dropping as she turned to face him. He was back on the porch, leaning against the railing and smiling at her, dimples showing full force. It looked as though he had been waiting outside for her to come home.

At least this time he was wearing a shirt.

This one too was black- did he own other colors?- and it stretched tight across his chest. Her eyes followed the path of his tattoos from his wrist to where they disappeared beneath his sleeve. She knew how far up they went now, how they played vibrantly over his muscles.

She ignored the low swooping pull that the sight of it caused in her belly and frowned at him. “My name is Rey,” she said curtly.

He bounded down the porch stairs, legs long and impossibly thick in black pants and heavy black boots and came to a stop a foot in front of her. He smiled down at her, revealing slightly crooked teeth behind plush pink lips. His eyes were clever and in the evening light she could see that they were not black, as they appeared the night before, but the shade of golden honey warmed by the sun.

“Yeah, Rey. That’s a nice name. Listen, would you like to come over for dinner? I mean, I can’t cook worth a damn and all I have are paper plates, but I am happy to feed you whatever I have that I can make out of a box if you’ll forgive me for the whole flower bush thing.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the nervous gesture drawing her eyes back to the patterns inked into his skin. The colors were now close enough to form shapes- snakes, spiders and skulls danced eerily up his arm, a silent testament to a life she understood nothing of.

“Ah, that sounds…interesting,” she said quietly, tearing her gaze away from his skin to look back up at his face. “I think I’ll pass, even though I’m grateful for the very strange offer. Some of us have jobs and I’m tired.”

He nodded, but she couldn’t help but notice that he looked a little disappointed. Was it her imagination or in the light of the day did he look less intimidating and somehow smaller? “Maybe some other time?” he asked, tapping his fingers against his thigh restlessly. Here, too, she found suggestions of violence, as a ring of silver crafted in the shape of a human skull winked at her in the sunlight.

“Maybe,” she agreed, hesitantly. Then, more pointedly, “Your car is still parked on my lawn.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, sweetheart,  _ try _ and work with me. I’m trying to be neighborly here, _ nice _ even, and that just isn’t something I do very often.”

She scanned him over- the unruly dark hair and the black clothes, the tattoos, and the heavy boots. He seemed like the type that wanted others to be afraid of him- certainly not a nice man.

“You should be nice,” she said primly. “I think it would improve your life immensely.”

“Well I can’t go around being nice to everyone, that wouldn’t work out for me at all, but I can be nice to you.” He said the last of it on a deep, sultry note that set her bones to liquid and took another step closer. She could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him, the heat in his gaze. He didn’t look nervous now, he looked almost predatory, like the charming awkwardness of a moment ago had been nothing more than an act.

She pursed her lips tightly at the sudden suggestiveness of his tone, but she ignored the innuendo. “What is it exactly that you do for a living? Most careers require some basic politeness.”

“Not my job, sweetheart. I work with monsters.”

She sniffed. “Maybe you _ are _ a monster.”

He winked at her, his chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest and sending her heartbeat skittering wildly. “Yes, I am,” he said. “The worst kind actually.”

She shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest defensively. “When you say it that way it makes you sound like a criminal.”

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Even if I am, you’re gonna learn to love me, sweetheart. I can already tell.”

Heat crept up into her cheeks. “I highly doubt that. I’ve never broken a law in my life, and I assure you that I will not hesitate to report any suspicious activities to the proper authorities. We have  _ nothing _ in common.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, “We both want to know what it would be like for you to be under me, moaning my name.”

She hissed out an outraged breath and stepped back, heat pooling unbidden between her thighs at the image that painted in her mind. “You might wonder,” she said indignantly. “but I assure you that I do not. I don’t waste my time on men like you. Please, keep your sexual comments to yourself. It would make it much easier for us to learn to live this close to one another without further incident.”

He shrugged. “You know where I am if you change your mind about dinner…or anything else.” He walked away whistling, leaving her standing in front of her house with an annoyed scowl on her face and an unpleasant pulsing need in her blood that had her contemplating far too many reckless ideas. She knew better than to act on those impulses, but it bothered her that he had even been able to stir them up.

He had some nerve, saying those things to her. The fact that she’d thought about almost nothing else as she tossed restlessly in her bed the night before was irrelevant. And while she doubted that he was actually a criminal- surely that was something he had made up just to rattle her- she was still convinced that he was at best an irresponsible flirt and a scoundrel.


	3. Intrigued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intrigue [in·trigue]  
> verb  
> -arouse the curiosity or interest of; fascinate  
> -make secret plans to do something illicit or detrimental to someone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taking me longer to update these days than it normally would. Homework from my college classes has really kicked in and stats is just terrible. I am giving all the free time I have to writing to try and keep all my WIPs updating regularly!

He was a criminal.

At least she was nearly certain that he was, her suspicions growing with each passing day as she watched him slyly from the windows of her own house, her face hidden behind the curtains as she leaned forward onto her tiptoes to get a better look.

Within a few weeks of his arrival she was sure of several things.

The first was that he did not, in fact, work a normal job. He kept no regular hours and seemed to have no determinable schedule. When he did leave the house, usually after midnight, it was nearly always in the company of the trembling little man that had destroyed her flowers and the irritating ginger with a bad attitude that made her teeth clench every time she saw his cruelly arrogant expression.

The second was that whatever he did with his many questionable comings and goings he was very secretive about. Any time they left, all of the men were obviously preoccupied with looking over their shoulders. They carried large boxes and cases to and from Kylo’s car often, but always covered and usually in the dark of night when it was unlikely that the neighbors would be paying them any attention. Mitaka, the flower destroyer, had a habit of speaking too often and too loudly that had gotten him chastised many times by the others, with Hux, the ginger, going so far as to slap him in the back of the head to silence him while muttering savagely under his breath.

So far, little of Mitaka’s ramblings had been particularly useful to her in puzzling out the mystery of her neighbor, but she had heard bits and pieces of conversations about someone named Snoke and something called the First Order. It meant nothing to her but seemed to be quite important to them.

The third was that he seemed to be quite popular, with large numbers of people visiting his house at all hours of the day and night. Some she came to recognize, such as Mitaka and Hux, but most of the others were less frequent. They would run inside while looking around suspiciously and then run back out again a few minutes later with furtive looks and guilty faces.

“He’s dealing drugs out of that house,” Rey announced unceremoniously to Finn and Poe one Saturday morning a month after he moved in. She was standing at their living room window, a cup of tea in her hands.

“Aww, come on Peanut,” Finn said with a shake of his head. “I know you don’t like the man, but dealing drugs in  _ this _ neighborhood? This is a pretty safe area.”

“No, it _was_ a safe area, before  _ him _ . I know what a drug house looks like,” she said stubbornly. “I was raised in several of them.”

Poe clucked his tongue at her, but his hand on her arm was gentle. “We know you had it rough growing up, but he’s been nice to everyone since he moved in. That bit with your yard was unfortunate but he replaced what was damaged, right?”

She huffed but she couldn’t deny it. He had bought her a new hydrangea a few days after the incident.

“I’m not saying you should date him,” Finn said with a shrug, “or even be friends with him but maybe try to give him a chance as a neighbor?”

“So, you two don’t think he’s up to anything suspicious over there?” She squinted at his house, the car was parked in the driveway, but the motorcycle was gone. He wasn’t home and she was tempted to go over and peak in his windows.

Finn and Poe shared a look, a subtle undercurrent of communication that she interpreted to mean that they thought she was being too uptight, too paranoid. It stung but it was expected- everyone came to that conclusion about her at one point or another.

“It’s not  _ impossible _ , I guess,” Poe said, his tone hesitant. “But I guess I don’t think it’s likely.”

She looked at Finn until he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “No, Peanut, I don’t get think he’s stupid enough to be doing anything that blatantly illegal, at least not here. What he does when he’s not here…” Finn shrugged, but she got the impression that it didn’t really matter to him what Kylo did as long as it wasn’t too close to their house.

She sighed and let the subject drop.

***

Rey froze, key still in the front door lock, when a black shape darted her way from the shadows.  Her heart was pounding before she recognized the shape for what it was. She laughed as a sleek black cat twined itself around her ankles.  She knelt and ran a hand over the cat’s back, noting that it was apparently clean, healthy, and well fed. Someone’s escaped house cat then, poor thing.  It leaned into her hand and she rubbed a silky ear between her fingers. She had always wanted a cat growing up, but foster homes weren’t the best places for pets.

“Where’d you come from, sweetie?” she asked, cooing to the cat as it stared at her aloofly. “You shouldn’t be outside.”

“Hey!”

She looked up and rolled her eyes as Kylo bounded up the front porch steps. “Yes?”

“That’s my cat,” he said, waving a hand at the animal, who blinked at him unrepentantly and made no move to return to its owner as it sat for Rey’s attentive stroking.

“Is it? Then you should keep it inside.”

“I  _ do _ keep him inside. He has a bad habit of darting out between my legs and making me chase him around the neighborhood.”

She shrugged, determined to blame him despite his excuses. “What’s his name?”

“Grimtaash,” Kylo said with a grin. “Named him after my favorite mythological monster.”

She stood up and eyed him suspiciously as he knelt down and lifted the cat into his arms. “I guess Mittens wasn’t a tough enough name for you?”

He chuckled, flashing his dimples at her and making her stomach flip pleasantly. “I guess not. I mean, in my defense, though, does this evil little bastard look like a Mittens to you?”

She looked at the cat, curled contentedly in Kylo’s arms, blinking narrowed eyes at her slowly as it stared at her, and shook her head. The man and the cat had the same quality of being simultaneously tempting and slightly menacing. “No, I don’t suppose he does.”

She turned away, reaching for the doorknob again and hoping to end the conversation by slipping inside, but his voice brought her up short.

“You never came for dinner,” he said quietly.

She looked back at him in surprise. “After what you said to me? Besides, I told you I don’t spend time with criminals and you’re dealing drugs out of that house,” she replied, staring at him pointedly to see his reaction to her accusation.

“Am I?” He looked shocked, his face a perfect mixture of hurt and offense.

“Do you have another explanation for all the stuff that goes on over there?”

He shrugged. “If you’re concerned about it, you’re welcome to come over and see for yourself. I’ll let you pet the cat while I make you dinner, and I bought real food, just in case.”

She glanced at Finn and Poe’s house, remembering what they said to her about giving him a chance. They were so certain that she was overreacting, overthinking as always, and Kylo was being unexpectedly pleasant, his thumb stroking the neck of his cat as she thought over his offer.

She looked from him, his lips tipped up in challenge, to the cat in his arms. She could hear the deep rumble of its purr from across the porch.

Surely, she could trust the cat’s judgement. That’s what people had always told her about animals, that their intuition about people’s intentions were stronger than a human’s and more reliable. The cat looked like he trusted Kylo implicitly, like he new he would be cared for and protected despite the man’s immense size and intimidating appearance. 

“I _am_ sorry for what I said to you last time and we owe you a dinner for helping reunite us after his escape attempt,” Kylo cajoled, seeming to sense her wavering resolve.

She sighed, shoulders slumping in good natured defeat. “What are you cooking?”

Triumph flared in his eyes as he held out his free hand, waiting for her to take it. “Spaghetti.”

“Now?”

“Did you have other plans for tonight?”

She thought of her empty house, her strict routine, and shook her head.

His hand was warm as it closed around hers, and nearly twice the size. The ring he wore brushed against her fingers and she trembled, remembering the way the skull had glinted in the light- a clear warning that she was ignoring as she followed him up the steps of his own porch.

She looked around curiously when he led her into the living room.

The house was much the same as it had been when old Mr. Kenobi had lived here, but the furniture was different- black leather couch and a large polished wooden coffee table instead of the pastel fabrics and white wicker that Mr. Kenobi had kept after his wife Satine had passed away.

The biggest flat screen TV she had ever seen dominated one wall, and the others were empty, no trace of family photos or any personal touches.

“The house looks different,” she mused, watching him set Grimtaash on the couch and give the cat an affectionate pat.

“You’ve been in here before?” he asked.

“I used to visit my neighbor. He was a sweet old man.”

“Hmm,” Kylo hummed. “I’m not old or nice but you can visit me any time.”

“If you want me to visit, maybe you should stop telling me that you’re not nice.”

He grinned, as unrepentant as his cat, and shrugged. “I want you to come, but you should know what you’re getting into.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“Trouble,” he teased, looking over his shoulder as he wandered to the fridge and looked inside. “You want a beer?”

“Ah, no thanks,” she said and wrinkled her nose as she followed him into the kitchen. “Beer isn’t really my thing.”

“You don’t drink?”

“Wine, occasionally,” she told him absently, trying to subtly take in the rest of the house. It was bare and unadorned, but tidy. Everything was well tended and there were none of the telltale signs that she would have expected if he were actually selling drugs out of his living room. None of the chaos and the filth that permeated her memories. “I won’t turn down a sweet and bubbly white if it’s offered.”

“I’ll get some,” he said. “In case you decide you want to come back after you taste my spaghetti.”

She leaned on the counter and shook her head. “Can’t you cook?”

He opened a beer and took a quick drink. Her eyes wandered over his tattoos and her fingers itched to touch. She wanted to ask him what they meant and why he’d chosen them, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answer.

“In theory?” he asked, bringing her attention back to the question she’d asked. “No, not really.”

She laughed, relaxing even as her instincts warned against trusting him too much and too quickly. “Well, there’s no time like the present to learn. Turn on some music and we’ll make spaghetti.”

“Hey, I owe you dinner.”

“You do,” she acknowledged, shamelessly opening the doors to his cabinets, and hunting for ingredients among the boxes and bags of prepackaged food, “and I would like to be able to eat it.”

He had the sense to look abashed as he walked away to turn the music on, and it only took five minutes of quibbling for them to decide on a compromise in radio station.

“You really listen to classical?”

She turned the water on to boil and smiled. “Yes, it’s soothing. Better than that noise you blast out of here every day.”

He grunted. “We are gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, sweetheart.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes, you call me that every time I see you.”

He rolled a shoulder. “My dad always calls my mom that. I guess I picked it up as a habit for pretty women with a tendency to bust everyone’s balls.”

She paused, watching him clumsily chop vegetables for a salad. “Is that how you see me?”

“Is that not how you see yourself?”

“No,” she said flatly.

“How do you see yourself?”

She frowned, but he was watching her curiously, calm and patient, and the truth bubbled up inside her. “Frightened,” she admitted. “Like I have to control everything all the time or something terrible will happen.”

“That sounds tiring.”

She swallowed, letting the unexpected understanding of that settle over her. The tension in her shoulders, her unconscious flinch as she waited to see how he’d respond, evaporated. “It is.”

“What do you do when you’re not busy trying to control everything?”

“I cook,” she said, waving a hand at the stove, “listen to classical music, read…Nothing exciting.”

“Hmm,” he said, tossing tomatoes in a bowl and smirking. “Watching your neighbors through your windows?”

She looked away guiltily, but he was smiling, so she settled on a lighthearted response. “Only the suspicious ones,” she teased.

He winked at her and heat skimmed its way under her skin, unfamiliar in its intensity, and the blood rushed to her cheeks. The control she clung to so tightly, the iron grip that she held over herself and her emotions, wobbled dangerously and her heart tumbled in its place.

What was it about him that she found so appealing? The edge of danger that she couldn’t quite pin down or the boyish charm that she couldn’t quite ignore?

The question lingered in her mind as they ate, Kylo keeping the conversation flowing by telling her the story of how he had found Grimtaash as kitten in a pile of trash outside a bar at 2 am and taken him home. Finn and Poe had been right, he was kinder and less threatening than her first impression of him had led her to believe. It softened her, the unexpected gentleness of him, and she was reluctant to leave when the time came. 

He seemed relaxed when he walked her back to her door, but her heart was fluttering. She’d been comfortable with him, content to watch the way his mouth curved around his words when he talked, and the connection between them had been easy and immediate.

The ache of loneliness that she carried with her had dimmed for the first time in years, and she was unsure of what that meant, but it felt hopeful.

“Thank you for dinner,” she told him.

“Thank you for rescuing my cat,” he said with a grin, stepping closer until she was peering up at him from under her lashes and she could smell the gentle waft of cologne and the unique scent of his skin. Her eyes fluttered down to settle on his mouth and she tipped her chin up invitingly, unsure if she hoped he would or hoped he wouldn’t be seized by the momentary madness that had settled itself over her.

She jumped when a car door slammed, both of their heads turning when a cold voice shouted, “Ren!”

Hux and Mitaka stood beside Hux’s sleek black sedan, which she knew cost at least three times as much as her own, more sensible car. Mitaka looked nervous and Hux furious.

Kylo rocked onto his toes, a dangerous look crossing his face before he turned back to smile down at her, his face softening again he stepped back. “I guess I’ve got to go. An appointment I forgot about.”

“This late?”

He flashed her a smile as Hux called his name again. “Just a little bit of business.”

“Business? Snoke and the First Order kind of business?”

His eyes darkened and flashed menacingly toward Mitaka, before returning to meet her gaze intently.

“I told him to keep his fucking voice down,” he muttered. “You didn’t hear any of that, do you understand me?” His tone was insistent, almost desperate. “Don’t breathe that name out loud ever again. It’s not safe for you.”

Cold reality clicked into place, slicing ruthlessly through the cozy intimacy they had created. Hurt sank its fingers into her, twining around her heart to squeeze until she was breathless.

“You really are a criminal, aren’t you?” Her voice soft and it wobbled on the edges as she swallowed down the tears that she would never let fall. “You lied to me.”

“I never lied to you, Rey.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but she folded her arms across her chest and turned away, refusing to look at him. “Please just go inside and remember what I told you.”

With that he was gone, striding quickly across the yard, every line of his body tense and dangerous as he closed the distance between himself and Hux and Mitaka.

She didn’t wait to see what happened when he reached them, rushing inside and closing the door quietly behind her. She locked it, the click of the deadbolt satisfying in the silence, and sat down on the floor in front of it, her back pressed back against the painted wood.

She replayed the events of the evening in her mind, her thoughts lingering on his shocked face when she’d accused him of dealing drugs out of his house. He hadn’t actually denied it, she realized. He’d danced his way around the question by feigning hurt and surprise, but he had not once ever told her that she was wrong in her suspicions.

She’d started to trust him, to like him even.

She was a fool. 


	4. Dejected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> de·ject·ed [dəˈjektəd]  
> adjective  
> -sad and depressed  
> \- dispirited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the patience on this one while it was on hiatus! Twenty chapters is a rough estimate and subject to change (I am bad at estimates, so you've been warned lol)

“Rey? Are you listening?”

She jumped guiltily, the background noise of a crowded Friday night restaurant rushing back into her senses as she flushed and turned to look at Rose.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Just a bit distracted.”

“What could be so distracting that it takes away from my birthday dinner? And does he have a set of gorgeous bedroom eyes?” Rose waggled her eyebrows suggestively and everyone at the table laughed.

It was just the four of them from work- Rey, Kaydel, Bazine, and Rose- and Rose’s big sister, Paige.

Rey smiled weakly, unsure of what to say. He did have gorgeous bedroom eyes, but she hadn’t mentioned to anyone else about the dinner she’d had at his place or the way he’d left so abruptly, words of danger and warning on those soft pink lips. He was an enigma she couldn’t quite unravel, this man that saved stray kittens but clearly had plenty of dark secrets to hide.

Rose spotted the blush immediately and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God! It  _ is _ about a guy, isn’t it? Spill!”

Rey shrugged and cleared her throat nervously. “It’s just…remember that new neighbor I have?”

“The flower destroyer?” Kaydel asked, eyes wide.

Rey nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Wait,” Bazine said, leaning forward eagerly, margarita clutched in her hand. “The boy bad next door has hot bedroom eyes?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Rey hedged. “I’m pretty sure he’s involved in some kind of illegal stuff, but he has this really cute cat and we made spaghetti and I thought he might kiss me and I thought that I might be okay with that… but then his buddies showed up and he got all bristly and dangerous and…” she trailed off, sucking in a deep breath and shrugging. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Even Paige, who had none of the story before now, was listening with rapt attention.

“He made you spaghetti? Sounds like a date.”

“No, I made the spaghetti. At his house, because he was going to make me dinner, but he can’t cook.”

“He let you cook in his kitchen? That’s definitely a date.”

“I feel like you are all focusing on the wrong thing here,” Rey said huffily. “Did you hear what I said? About the suspected illegal activities? I was so sure he was dealing drugs or something and I think he’s part of some kind of gang, some criminal organization.”

They all frowned at her in unison and she took a sip of her drink.

“Do you have any proof of that?” Rose asked.

“Yeah, I mean, what’s he done to make you think that?” asked Kaydel.

She started naming off her list of Kylo’s suspicious activities, ticking them off one at time on her fingers. “And then,” she said, leaning in to whisper quietly, “after the spaghetti incident I asked him about Snoke and the First Order and he got very defensive. He told me that I should never say that name out loud because it’s not safe for me.”

Paige pursed her lips on a small, “Hmm,” and leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. “That does sound a bit suspicious.”

“Oh, come on,” Rose said, shaking her head. “That could be anything.”

Kay shook her head but Bazine nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah,” she said, “sure it sounds a little strange, but you don’t know for sure and he seems like a nice guy when he’s with you, right? Not exactly the axe murderer type, just a little gruff, maybe a bit of a tender side under there. Sounds like a dream guy to me.”

Kaydel rolled her eyes. “So, what? She’s just supposed to pretend that he might not be a dangerous person? What is if he  _ is _ selling drugs? Or  _ worse _ ?”

“Like something like that would stop me from finding the man of my dreams,” Rose said. “Sometimes you have to take a chance on love.”

Kaydel pointed a french fry at her. “That is exactly how you ended up with your last boyfriend and that guy was…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rose said. “But you have to  _ try.  _ I have a goal- to be one half of a power couple, find somebody with _ ambition _ and I am not about to let something that’s probably not true anyway get in the way of my dreams.”

“I don’t even know if he’s the man of my dreams,” Rey reminded them. “I barely know him. Finn and Poe told me before all this that I needed to give him a chance but…”

“I agree with them,” Bazine said. “You’re always so cautious and so afraid to take chances. I understand why, I really do, but how are you going to move forward in life if you never try anything that’s not one hundred percent safe?”

Rey huffed, running one finger down the condensation on the side of her glass and avoiding their eyes as they watched her.

“We aren’t saying not to keep your wits about you or to ignore it if it seems like he might be a threat to you but giving him a chance to explain himself and find out what’s really happening before you close him out for good might not be a terrible idea.”

“It’s been such a long time since you were even interested in anybody,” Kaydel agreed reluctantly.

That truth sat uncomfortably on her tongue, weighing down the protest that crept up her throat until she was forced to swallow it away. It  _ had _ been a long time since she had been interested in anyone, so long that she wasn’t sure she had ever really been interested in the first place. She dated and had sex because that’s what was expected of her, but if she had ever felt that electric current beneath her skin with anyone before Kylo she had long since forgotten it.

Her eyes drifted guilty to Rose, who smiled mischievously. “Maybe you like that he’s a bit unpredictable. You can’t figure him out and it bothers you just enough to keep your interest. Opposites attract and all that,” Rose said with a nod, twirling the little umbrella in her drink with a knowing smile.

“I’ve never been into bad boys,” Rey grumbled.

“You’ve never found a hot one who looks at you with bedroom eyes. Ten bucks says he’s itching to get under your skin and ruffle those perfect feathers of yours.”

The image that conjured in her mind, of Kylo’s hands and his mouth disrupting the tight grip she kept on her life and her emotions, caused her to shift uncomfortably in her seat, an unfamiliar desire sparking to terrifying, tantalizing life inside her.

She bit her lip and shrugged helplessly.

“Think about it,” Rose told her, and Rey found that she couldn’t think of anything else as the meal progressed. She was lost in thought as they said goodbye to Paige, Rose hugging her and promising to stop by soon to see her nephew. She barely remembered them all deciding to crash at her house that night, hoping to get a glimpse of the mystery man that was causing her so much trouble.

They were disappointed when they all arrived at Rey’s house and she had to tell them his bike wasn’t there, so he wasn’t home.

They were still awake, wine drunk and laughing at whatever romcom was playing on the TV when he came home hours later.

They rushed to the window, all peering out at him with bleary eyes as he parked the bike and turned toward the front door.

Kaydel whistled softly. “Tall, dark, and hot? I’d let that man dick me down in a heartbeat.”

Rey choked on her wine. “Kay!”

“I’m on her side,” Bazine said dreamily. “Just  _ look _ at him.”

He stopped suddenly, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the window and they all squealed and ducked down. Rey was the first one to have the nerve to peek back above the sill, her heart hammering with a mix of humiliation and thrill. He was still standing in the same place, waiting. When he spotted her again, he winked, not at all bothered.

She wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

***

Her head was pounding when she woke the next morning, bright light streaming in through the window announcing that she had slept in far too late. An unfamiliar weight on her legs had her lifting one eye open cautiously, but it was just Bazine, sleeping sideways across the foot of her bed, arms thrown wide and face pressed heavily into a stolen couch pillow.

Rey winced as bits of last night’s memories flitted across her mind. Kylo caught her-  _ them _ , all of them- staring at him at 3 am. He had winked at her, that smile that made her knees unsteady and her pulse hammer flashing languidly at her in the darkness.

She wiggled herself out from under Bazine and wandered downstairs, shaking her head a little when she found Kaydel curled up on her couch, one foot peeking out from under the living room throw blanket and snoring softly.

She checked the kitchen, the bathrooms, the little nook where she kept her books, but there was no sign of Rose.

The porch creaked under her feet as she stepped out, glancing around to see if her car was still parked beside the curb. She found her there, loping gleefully across the yard with a wide smile on her face.

“There you are! I thought you were never going to wake up.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Definitely, just having a few words with your neighbor’s little ginger friend. He was out here at an indecent hour with that bike of his, trying to wake the neighborhood.”

Rey rolled her eyes. Hux was her least favorite of Kylo’s acquaintances. “He didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

Rose shook her head, lips twitching. “I don’t think he quite knew what to make of me, so he left.”

“Good.”

“But not before he hit on me,” Rose said with a laugh, her eyes full of mischief. “He’s cute, maybe I shouldn’t have run him off.”

“There’s something off about him,” Rey cautioned. “He gives me the creeps.”

“I don’t think he likes you, either,” Rose said. “He seemed pretty sour once he realized that I was hanging out with Kylo’s nosy neighbor.”

“Hmph,” Rey groused, unwilling to feel guilty anymore about the time she’d spent peering at them out the window. “Bazine is still passed out but we can go ahead and start whipping up some muffins if you’re hungry.”

“I never turn down muffins,” Rose agreed. “Blueberry?”

“Always.”

The smell of breakfast in the oven and coffee brewing brought everyone to the kitchen, all of them lounging around and leaning on the counters as they waited for breakfast to be ready. Rose entertained the others with a repeat of her story about encountering Hux, and Rey shook her head in amusement as they all cheered her on when they found out that he’d hit on her.

“Rey’s not the only one with a cute bad boy love interest now,” Bazine said, giggling behind the rim of her coffee cup.

“I can’t believe you’re tempted at all,” Rey said as she popped her head out of the oven with her hands full of muffin tin. “He’s so…cold.”

“I’m not really tempted,” Rose said with a shrug. “Not for anything serious. I just…”

“What’s wrong?” Kaydel asked when Rose fell silent and plucked a muffin from the tin, tossing it back and forth in her hands to cool it as she frowned.

“I just need some distraction from work stress,” Rose admitted. “Working under DJ is a fucking nightmare and it’s even worse knowing that should have been my job. I  _ earned _ it.”

“You’re right,” Rey said readily. “It would be nothing more than Resistance deserved if you quit and took your considerable talent somewhere else. They don’t deserve you if they can’t appreciate you.”

Rose sighed, deep and sad. “I know but if I do that, I feel like I’m just giving up. It’s like admitting that I can’t get the respect there and I hate it.”

“You want them to know how good you are before you leave,” Bazine said with a shrug. “Really rub it in.”

Rose nodded fiercely. “Exactly, I’m tired of people feeling like they can walk all over me.”

“You’ll get your chance,” Rey said. “I know you and if you can’t find a way then you’ll make one.”

Rose smiled ruefully, her finger tapping restlessly on the side of her coffee cup. “Thanks, it’s good to know that I’ll always have all of you, even if my job is shitty and my dating life is shittier.”

“If all else fails, you can always move in with me and adopt a dozen cats,” Bazine said with a grin.

“That would be truly living the dream,” Rose said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes dramatically.

“I’ll have you know that my cat lady house will be very desirable real estate.”

“Then let Kaydel live there,” Rose said with a smirk.

“Hey,” Kaydel protested, tossing a piece of muffin at Rose. “What about Rey?”

“Rey has her mystery man from next door,” Rose said, tossing the muffin back at Kaydel and missing by a wide enough margin to send it sailing past her head and into the living room.

Rey winced thinking about the time she was going to have to spend cleaning up after the others went home and it took her a moment to realize what Rose had said.

“He’s not my man,” she muttered, chewing morosely on her own muffin.

“After that smile he gave you last night I’d say he wants to be,” Kaydel said with a lifted brow.

“If he wants anything at all it’s just to get in my pants,” Rey said grumpily. “We talked about this last night.”

“That was before we saw him,” Kaydel said. “Now we know for a fact that he’s interested  _ and _ extremely hot.”

“He can be hot and interested from his own house,” Rey said stubbornly. “I don’t need the headache of dealing with him.”

“Sure,” Rose said, her grin getting even wider when the doorbell rang. “I wonder who that could be? Maybe Mr. Headache himself?”

“It’s probably Finn or Poe,” Rey said, straightening up and quickly trying to smooth her hair into place. “Kylo doesn’t have any reason to come over here.”

“You’re over here,” Bazine muttered, sending the rest of them into peals of laughter as Rey huffed and scurried for the door. She reached it and yanked it open as the bell rang again.

Kylo was standing on her front porch with tousled hair and a sheepish smile. The anger she’d been carrying around since the last time she’d seen him drained away at the sight of him, leaving her slightly unsettled at how quickly her concerns and common sense vanished when he looked at her.

She’d always been in such tight control of herself and one smile from him was enough to send her careening off course.

“Hey,” he said quickly. “I know you’re probably pissed at me about what happened the other day but…”

He trailed off, his eyes wide as he stared over her right shoulder into the house behind her.

She already knew what she’d see if she turned to look and she sighed. “They’re behind me, aren’t they?”

“All three of them,” he confirmed, shooting a charming grin in the direction of her living room. “I thought you weren’t alone in the window last night and I’m glad it was a sleepover with the girls and not a date.”

His gaze was suddenly warm, possessive, and arousal bubbled dangerously in her blood. It made her bold and reckless. She was sure she was going to regret it later, but the urge to tease him, to flirt, was too strong for her to resist.

She leaned on the door frame, arms crossed over her chest and determined to ignore that he was seeing her in her pajamas again. “How do you know it wasn’t a date?”

“Oh,” he said, looking from her to the living room and back. “You…and all of them, huh? Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?”

She knew he didn’t believe her- she was clearly too tightly wound to regularly participate in orgies, and shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “What do you want, Kylo?”

“Right now?” he asked. “Just you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I will love you endlessly for kudos and comments because the serotonin that I get from that fuels my creative process. I can be found on Twitter @Love_andbalance for story updates and SW stuff. 
> 
> If you like this and haven't read any of my other works they can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_andbalance/works


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